In Silence Speaks My Heart
by NoCleverSig
Summary: For a brief moment, Helen was reminded of a different room, another bed, where the red and yellow hues were shed by the setting of an English sun. But that time, that place was long ago and those lovers dead and gone.


**Author's Note: **My first story of the New Year! Helen's thoughts during THE SCENE from, "For King and Country." This one is dedicated to MajorSam for her friendship and support. Happy New Year, Major! Since you didn't beta this, all mistakes are my own :) BTW, Sanctuary and its characters don't belong to me. I just play with them. My words, however, are my own.

**ln Silence Speaks My Heart  
by NoCleverSig (copyright 2011)**

_Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away; and all the things I want to say can find no voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my eyes will speak my heart._-Robert Sexton

The neon light from the raucous, city street streamed into John Druitt's room, its beam muted by the dirt-stained window, transforming its harsh glow into soft, yellow rays. The light caressed the bed and Druitt's form, casting his pale face into shadow. For a brief moment, Helen was reminded of a different room, another bed, where the red and yellow hues were shed by the setting of an English sun, not the cacophonous glare of a Cambodian street sign.

But that time, that place was long ago and those lovers now dead and gone.

Helen sighed and wiped Druitt's brow, feeling his face for fever and stroking his cheek because….

Simply because.

What he took, how much he took, was impossible to say, but given their location, his symptoms, and the syringes she'd found on his table, it wasn't difficult to guess his drug of choice.

Tesla couldn't free him from his beast, so he'd tried to tame it with narcotics. She wondered if it had given him any respite at all. Watching him sleep, his face in repose, his breathing deep and even, he looked…serene. He looked…

Like John.

"_Help me, God…please…," _she prayed to a deity she held no faith in.

Helen closed her eyes and sat back, fighting the images assaulting her mind. This was not the time for self-indulgence, memories of love lost. She dug her fingers into John's skin, tightening them around his forearm, staring at his face, dark circles ringing his eyes.

_Laughing as they walked the dew clad-grass of Oxford, John surreptitiously brushing her shoulder with his arm…picnicking along the Serpentine, her luring him into a scandalous kiss behind the rose-covered hedgerow… studying together, their feet sliding against one another's as Nikola regarded them suspiciously, both of them hardly able to suppress a giggle…her head thrown back in sheer ecstasy as she rode him naked, tears in his eyes, the golden-red sunset embracing them in its amber arms…._

Dear God how she missed him! Missed them…

Her decision made, she lifted his unconscious arm and slipped in beside him, pulling his limb across her waist and locking his fingers with her own. She tucked her head under his chin, her pillow his arm, and closed her eyes, stroking his skin up and down in a slow, lazy rhythm, to soothe him or to soothe herself she wasn't sure.

If she closed her eyes and voided her mind, all she could feel was him, his warm skin cradling her back, his body embracing her soul. And all she could see was the yellow-red sunset as he held her in his arms, his lips brushing her forehead in a tender kiss, their bodies long ago lost to passion.

"_You and I will settle down in a quaint little cottage by the sea. I'll write poetry. Sonnets, perhaps?...When this is over, you and I will begin our dance anew…."_

Even in sleep, his sarcasm stabbed at her heart.

When she awoke, his fingers were intertwined with hers, unconscious and unbidden. She stroked his hand with her thumb in mimic of her desires, her dreams. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but lying there in his arms, she could almost forget…almost.

For a brief moment, Helen was reminded of a different room, another bed, where the red and yellow hues were shed by the setting of an English sun, not the cacophonous glare of a Cambodian street sign.

But that time, that place was long ago and those lovers now dead and gone.

END


End file.
